Maybe this situation wasn’t ideal. Scrape that, it was definitely not ideal. But there were a few variables that contributed to your current state of helplessness.
Firstly, the room was freezing as if they wanted to torture your exposed skin. You swore you had frostbite. Now that problem was partially your fault. They had asked you before they began if the temperature was okay, and because you refused to be a bother, you didn’t dare ask them to turn the heating up.
Oh and then there was the pain of the needle being darted into your skin. The other times you sat in this chair, you had no issues with discomfort. But what did you expect, the needle was digging into your ribcage. Oh, yeah, and the worst part, you liked it. A little bit too much.
But the killer were his hands. Now this, was definitely not your fault.
The parlor you had booked was one of the best in the city. And it took months to get in. Unfortunately, the lovely lady you had met for your consultation was out due to a sudden illness. Which left you with two options. Either wait for another three months, or allow Jungkook to do it today. You were mentally prepared for today to be the day, so fuck it, Jungkook it was.
But that was a grave mistake.
It was a big mistake, and in sight, you should have waited three months. His gloved hands were everywhere. They touched every inch.
They had touched your back when they guided you into his office. Grazed your thigh when he leaned over to grab a sterile wipe. The back of your neck when they helped you find a comfortable position on the bed. Wrapped around your wrist to lift your arm across your body to give them the necessary access. And now, they were all over your abdomen, pushing and pulling to ensure the accuracy of the needle.
Want to know what pissed you off the most. The consent. ‘Is it okay if I touch this?’ or the ‘can I place my hand here?’. You could’ve said no. Could’ve made his life a living hell. But you genuinely never thought you would ever be this turned on by just hands.
Although you could not see the skin that decorated their stature, you could make out all the pretty features from under the thin black latex. A large palm attached to the longest fingers you have ever seen, joined by sharp knuckles. The digits were thick but incredibly agile.
Let’s not get started on those arms. The coloured ink that ran along its length, your eyes couldn’t stop tracing the outlines. You thanked the higher powers that his biceps were covered by his oversized shirt. But due to his hard grip on the machine, you could see the veins that protruded through his skin.
On top of all that, he had a ridiculously sculpted face. So fucking pretentious. How could someone be so handsome? The strong jawline, the perfect nose, those siren eyes. Even his hair, slicked back, allowing you to admire every detail. It was like he wanted you to know you were in the presence of a fucking god.
And you would be selling your soul to that religion. You swore to worship him until death. No hesitation. Okay, you were done for.
Afraid you were staining the chair below you, you crossed your legs, throwing one thigh over the other.
That stupid eyebrow piercing mocked you, perking up at the action. His tongue poked at his cheek. “You good?”
You hummed, knowing if you let your lips relax, a very inappropriate sound would escape. “Use your words gorgeous. If you are uncomfortable we can take a break.”
The compliment shot straight to your core. The sensation forcing you to shut your eyes. This was utterly embarrassing. You felt pathetic. You just wanted to get out of the place. “No. Keep going.” You gritted.
